Conflicting Passions
by Aeroxin
Summary: For years they grew up hating one another. But now that maturity and disaster has stricken, will they find that there was always something more? Cartman/Kyle
1. Chapter 1

_Thump / Thump / Thump / Thump_

The repetitive and rather obnoxious noise wasn't even muffled by the television or radio playing in the downstairs. Instead, it only seemed to amplify every change in pitch and timing, as if mocking him. Terrance and Phillip couldn't even coax a chuckle out of him, Cheezey Poofs all but forgotten sprawled on the couch. Instead, he ground his teeth tightly together, eyebrow raised in growing irritation.

Eric Cartman wasn't a stranger to his mother bringing home men at strange hours of the day and night. No, it was something that he had gotten use to in his seventeen years living under the same roof. When he was younger, he would claim his mother a saint and beat down anyone that said otherwise. Now that he was older and past his utter denial? Well, he didn't really care anymore. Except for right now, with his fist clenching around the remote and the other tapping the small coffee table. Some days, it just got to him. Some days, he just couldn't fucking stand it.

Flipping off the television, he grabbed a few Cokes out of the fridge and swept up his keys, slamming the door shut behind him. Not that the two of them would notice, the way they had been going at it. What had it been, six or seven hours? Christ. Sliding into the truck, he threw the sodas into the passenger seat before starting it up with a dull roar. He didn't care enough to put his seat belt on, he never wore it anyways. He had bought this pile of junk for two hundred dollars from some guy out of town. It was an old Ford Truck, rusted brown in color, with a few strange holes peppering the hood and sides. Past the horrid exterior, it ran like a dream and hadn't failed him yet. Hell, it even had working AC and heat, and a shitty radio to boot. What wasn't there to love? Heading out the driveway he flipped through the stations, finally settling on 93.X which happened to be playing Papa Roach's Getting Away With Murder. He liked it well enough.

Unsure of exactly where he was going or what he was even doing, he dug his cellphone out of his pocket, texting Stan. Hopefully, he wouldn't be with Wendy, the stuck up little bitch that she was. All about fashion and appearance and everything mass produced in the world. Stan and her spent every second together it seemed, lately, and it was getting on everyone's nerves. Poor boy was whipped beyond belief.

_To Stan : U with ur bitch or u up for some fun? _

Stan knew Cartman didn't like Wendy. Hell, Wendy knew it too, but she took it as more of a challenge then anything else. Sometimes, it was worth a good laugh. Other times, she needed to shut up and get in the god damn kitchen. Suddenly his phone vibrated, signaling a reply.

_To Cartman : Not cool, dude. Game tonight so no dice._

Swearing under his breath, he took a sharp turn in the opposite direction of where he was going, already near Stan's house. Being the star quarterback on the football team meant he had to play in every single game, home and away. Not only that, but he had to go to things like pep rallies and other meaningless bullshit. When Stan wasn't with Wendy, he was with the jocks. Fucking weak.

Noticing where he was in the neighborhood, he figured Kenny might be free for the night. It was only six o' clock so there was plenty of time to kill. The poor bastard didn't have enough money for a phone, so he'd have to go there personally to see if he was around. If he remembered right, he didn't have a woman over tonight, since it was Monday, his usual free day. He had become a real womanizer and had slept with at least half of the school's girl population already, and a good amount of the neighboring college chicks.

Finally at his poor excuse for a house, he threw it into park and walked up to the front door, already smelling the cheap alcohol and lack of cleaning. It was like stepping into a third world country and there was no turning back. Knocking a few times, his mom finally answered, wearing her trademark "I'm with stupid" shirt. Apparently Rednecks never got over that joke. "Hey, is Kenny around?"

"Kenny!" His mom screamed back into the house, getting annoyed looks from her husband who was planted firmly on the couch, watching a game of football. He was the obvious source of the biting alcohol stench floating around, empty beer in hand. If they were so poor, how could he afford all that god damn alcohol? "Sorry Eric, I think Kenny might be at one of his little girlfriend's houses."

"It's alright." He climbed back into his truck, taking the time to slam his head against the steering wheel before pulling out of the dirt driveway. Letting out a sigh he sped off in yet another direction, mentally kicking himself the entire way. Craig was out of town for the week, Tweak was too easy to scare, and Butters parents had sent him to some kind of camp for the month. Tolkein was probably at KFC or wherever it was he went for dinner on a daily basis. That left only one option in this god forsaken small mountain town.

Sometimes he hated living in such a good for nothing town. Sure, gas wasn't a problem because you could visit every single person's house in one night and still have a half tank of gas. But that also meant that everyone knew one another, and that everyone was in your business. On top of that, it meant a very limited range of friends. Such as the one he was being forced to visit now in a last ditch effort to turn something bad into something decent. The one thing he might actually despise more then Wendy.

**The Jew**.


	2. Chapter 2

Cartman slowly pulled into the driveway, noting that the living room light was the only one lit. Knowing the family a little better then he wanted to, he was sure that they were deep in prayer or whatever it was Jew's did before they ate dinner. Probably sacrificed children and threw puppies into valcanoes, all the while politely asking the other to pass the mashed potatoes. There was something in his gut that just made him naturally hate all Jewish people, and he hadn't been proved wrong so far. He doubted he ever would. Climbing out of the truck, he stuffed both Cokes into his pants pocket before making his way to the door, taking his precious time. It was as if the entire area was contaminated and he didn't want to get infected; he had his suspicions. Knocking three times, he waited patiently, knowing that any more would piss the bitch off. God she was...terrible. Probably the worst person he had ever met in his entire life. Bitching and ranting and throwing fits about everything possible. Hell, she had tried killing Terrance and Phillip! Who did that, honestly? Crazy bitch.

The door swung open revealing beecomb red hair and a rather disgruntled face. "Oh...Eric. Yes?" Her voice and posture screamed disgust and she didn't even try to hide it. Sheila hated Cartman's mom being a whore and frowned down on them whenever possible. It wasn't his fault his mom decided to sleep around, why did he have to be treated like crap? It was ridiculous, even by his low, low standards of human ethics.

Putting on his sweetest voice and cheeriest face, he almost made himself sick as he spoke. "Oh, Mrs. Broflovski, what a pleasent surprise it is to see you! I was wondering if your son was home and was able to hang out at the present time? I'll make sure he's home at a reasonable time, of course." He added as an afterthought, not really caring what time they actually got home. What did it matter? It didn't.

She shut the door for a minute, leaving Eric alone to listen to the mumbled conversation through the heavy wood. He couldn't make anything out, but he was sure she was bitching about something already. A few moments later, Kyle came through, rolling his eyes as he locked the door behind him. "What the hell, Cartman? You couldn't find anyone else to hang out with, honestly?" It was an excuse to get away from his mom, however, and he wasn't about to pass that up. No way in hell. Even Kyle thought she was a crazy bitch now.

Cartman laughed, tossing him one of the Cokes as he turned the truck back on. "Shut up, Jew. You're lucky I saved your ass from that stupid bitch. She doesn't even try to hide the fact she hates me anymore." He muttered as he pulled out of the driveway, heading for the main strip. There had to be something to do, right?

Kyle was about to flip him off, then realized it was true and chose to shrug instead. "Dude, you've never hidden your hate for her. Why should it be any different?" God Cartman was dense. "Besides, she's off her medications right now anyways. She's been screaming at the cat for the last half hour." Kyle shuddered. His mom was so fucking crazy, it was a miracle she never drowned Ike or himself.

"She needs a lot more then medication. She needs a good camp and some stars on her chest." He said with a loud laugh, earning him a rather heavy punch in the arm. Kyle had become a lot less scrawny then he was as a kid, and it actually hurt when the fucker hit. Not as much as Cartman could hurt him, though. Slamming on the brakes, he watched in satisfaction as Kyle was thrown forward, slamming his head against the dashboard with a loud smack. "Try that again, Jew boy!" He continued laughing as Kyle rubbed his head, giving him the deathglare of the century.

"Fat fuck!" He yelled in irritation, wincing as he dabbed at his head again. Was Cartman really any better then dealing with his mom? He didn't know at this point. "So what the fuck do you have in mind, anyways?" They both knew there wasn't much to do in such a rundown little town. The best options were the bar, the movies, or the arcade. And the arcade closed at five, leaving that option a dead end.

Shrugging, Cartman pulled up in front of the movie theater, the only thing that looked alive on the entire strip. There wasn't even a homeless man on the sidewalk, soaking in his own beer and urine. He missed that sight. It made him feel better about himself, which was slightly sad. Oh well, whatever worked, right? "How about Saw IV?" It was the only non-romance playing, and just about the only thing Cartman could get into at this point. He needed a little blood and gore right now.

Kyle shrugged, nodding in agreement, both paying for their tickets seperately. Kyle headed into the theater first, and Cartman couldn't help but notice how tight his pants were, hugging his ass in that perfect way. Wait...what? Nah, he didn't just think that. He liked women. Tits and pussy, as Kenny liked to put it. "Hey Jew, I'm grabbing snacks! You better save me a god damn seat!" He yelled as he headed for the lobby, stomach grumbling loudly.

"One extra large popcorn, extra butter, extra salt. Two bags of cheezey poofs, one extra large Coke, and a few boxes of cookie dough bites." He recited quickly, throwing the money on the table. Yeah, he still ate like a pig. Did it bother him? No. He exercised now, to keep most of it off. He wasn't skinny by any means, but he wasn't fat anymore either, and he was damn proud of it. He wasn't about to loose it now, that much was for sure.

As soon as he got his snacks he was gone, trying to find Kyle in the dark theater, previews already running. Reaching out aimlessly, he accidently grabbed onto his ass rather then his arm, swearing as he pulled away quickly. "Jesus dude!" Kyle yelled in panic as he scooted back in his seat, letting the fatass through.

"Don't worry, fairy boy. I'm not a faggot like you."

"Fuck you, Fatass."

The movie ran for a good couple of hours, giving Cartman the exact gore thrill he needed, even earning a few 'ews' and 'gross' from Kyle. He wasn't too big on blood, so it wasn't quite the movie he was into, but enjoyed it nonetheless. It was well past the time that Kyle was suppose to be home, and his phone was lit up from the amount of messages his mom had left him. "Thirty eight." He said absent mindedly, sighing loudly as he shook his head. "I'm so dead."

Cartman thought a moment, the two of them already well on their way back to his house. "Just tell her I got a flat in a dead-zone. She should buy it with this rust bucket, right?"

"Yeah, I guess that'll work." Cartman was always good with excuses, he was basically the master of making shit up. Must of come with being a bastard all his life. Okay, that was kind of mean. But he was a complete asshole, and that was undeniable.

"We're here. Now get out before the bitch jumps through the window and sets my truck on fire trying to find you." Kyle punched his arm again, but this time Cartman let him off of the hook. He would get him back at school, during gym, anyways. "And next time, don't wear pants so tight. I can practically see your asscrack, Jew."

"Why're you looking at my ass, faggot?" Kyle laughed as he ran inside, ignoring Cartman who was laying on his horn in irritation, unable to control his anger. He wasn't looking at Kyle's ass. He was just...observing how god damn gay he was. There was a difference. God damn.

Maybe Kyle did have a tight ass. Who was he to blame for staring at it?


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Cartman entered the living room, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him, he knew something was different. The house was quiet, completely dark, and there was a scent wafting in the air that he didn't quite recognize. He knew what his mom's whorish sex smelled like, and he knew what a good amount of alcohol smelled like, but this was neither. It bothered him, especially after having an okay night for once. One that didn't involve being at home alone, though he used the term 'alone' loosely. Throwing his keys on the coffee table, he wandered into the kitchen, already hungry again. A few bags of chips shoved under his arm, he made his way up the stairs, careful as to where he stepped so it wouldn't creak and groan in irritation. He was convinced the stairs would collapse someday. They were built like shit.

Just as he got to his room, he heard his mom call out to him. "Poopie-kins, is that you? Where have you been, sweetie?" His mother always laid on the nicknames after she had sex, as if it made up for her lack of decency. Her mock concern made him want to smash his head against the wall, but he chose against it.

"Movies!" He yelled back before shutting his door, throwing the chip bags on his bed, changing into his pajamas rather quickly. He was dead tired and he had gym tomorrow, which didn't sound all that appealing at the moment. Shutting off his lights he crawled into bed, letting out a yawn as his head hit the pillow.

Suddenly his door was open and a strange face entered his vision, causing him to swear as he nearly jumped out of bed. "Uh? Oh, sorry kid. Bathroom." He left just as abruptly as he came, door shutting without notice, Cartman nearly having a heartattack. None of his mother's clients ever stayed more then a few minutes after they were done having sex. And there was no way they had been at it for over four hours now. There were limits. Not to mention there was a private bathroom in his mom's room just for that reason.

Shaking his head, he got up, locked his door, then crawled back under the covers. Must of been an off night for everybody. It bothered him, but it's what happened, right? Well, at least that's what happened when your mom was a whore. Bah. He would be gone in the morning and everything would go back to normal, and his mom would make him a fresh batch of waffles in the morning.

Mm. Waffles.

- - - - -

"Dude, Cartman, you look like shit." Stan strode up to him, backpack slung over his shoulder as he laughed at his friend's appearance. It was true, Cartman did look like shit. There were bags under his eyes and even his face was paler then usual.

"Aye! Don't call me fat." He retorted, flipping him off before grumbling about eggos or something along those lines. Apparently he hadn't gotten as much sleep as he had hoped last night, and it was really hurting on him now. A few cups of coffee or a quick energy drink and he would be fine. That was the teenage motto, after all. Who needs sleep when you could practically inject yourself with caffeine? "You missed out on Saw IV. Total carnage." Cartman said with a wide grin, remembering all the blood and guts and total mayhem. It was his kind of movie alright, even if it was a little mindless.

Stan shrugged his shoulders, throwing his books and his backpack into his locker, cramming it full. "If it makes you feel any better we lost the game, 08-12." Stan hated it when he lost, so he was a little more down then usual today, though it was hardly noticeable. As soon as he saw Wendy his troubles would be gone and he'd be thinking with his dick rather then his head. It was the usual pattern and it never changed.

"Pussies." Cartman muttered with a laugh, throwing his books as well, pulling out the papers he needed for class. First off was English, then Biology, then Gym, and finally Study Hall. Of course Study Hall was his favorite class because you got to do absolutely nothing and still get graded for it. Whoever invented that class was an absolute genius. Much better then English, which he failed miserably, and on top of that, had a report due today. They had to read a part from their favorite book and explain to the class why it was their favorite book. Total bullshit. "See ya." He waved off Stan as he headed towards class, pushing through the throngs of people. High school was totally over crowded.

Finally making it, he made it through the doors just as the bell rang, meaning he wouldn't get a 'late' mark for once. So some things were looking up today. Taking his seat next to Kyle, as per usual, he couldn't help but glance at the Jew, rolling his eyes. He already had his desk perfectly in order, his OCD kicking in like none other. If even one piece of paper was out of place he would flip a tit and smack somebody with his purse. No, he didn't have a purse, but Cartman wouldn't be surprised if he did.

"Alright class, it's time to start your oral reports." The word 'oral' got a few giggles from some of the boys in the back row, causing the teacher to give them all a dissaproving glance. "First off is...Tolken Black." She always went alphabetically, meaning it was always Tolken first then Cartman second. Tolken did his on Mark Twain and his Tom Sawyer series. Cartman had never read it, and he wasn't about to pay attention to it now. Pulling out his notebook, he scribbled circles and little stickmen in the corner of the page, head resting in his hand as he did so. God he hated English.

After awhile, Tolken finished, taking his seat as the teacher scribbled down some notes and a quick grade. "Alright, thank you Tolken. Next up we have...Eric Cartman." He really, really hated it when people said his first name, but he let it go. If he got one more detention he was at risk of an out of school suspension and his mom would have his balls.

Grabbing up the book and the notes he had written, he made his way to the front of the desk, placing everything on the podium as he cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen." He started, overdramatic as he usual was during school. "We know many great literary advancements, and are taught from a young age to always expand our knowledge, no matter how controversial." He saw Kyle inwardly groan, which just made him beam that much more. Holding up the book in front of him, he smirked as some gasped and others shook their head. "Mein Kampf is my favorite book due to the elaborate writing and very insightful viewpoints of the author."

"Eric Cartman! That is not okay!" The teacher bickered, appalled that he would bring in such a horrid piece of writing. True, she had never put any restrictions on what they could bring in, but she never dreamt something as awful as this. Then again, yes, it was Eric Cartman, but she at leat thought he had boundaries. Apparently she had been very, very wrong. "Principal's office!"

"This is discrimination!" Eric retorted, slamming the book down on the podium, pointing his finger. "This is advanced literature and should not be shunned by Jew Magic!" Kyle let out a groan, holding his head in his hands. What Cartman had against Jews, he would never know. But it was exasperating, even for him. And the fact that he still thought there was such a thing as 'Jew Magic'.

After a bit of bickering and name calling, Cartman finally dragged himself out of the class, avoiding the principal's office at all cost. He would just ditch today, like he usually did. They didn't call parents when ditching, so it wasn't that big of a deal to him. That, and he didn't feel like getting bitched at again. Why was it so wrong that he saw something beautiful in such a horrid situation? Most people would call that poetry, but if you were Eric Cartman, that just made you a bastard fatass. He sighed. Oh well, he was use to it by now. Plus he was always satisfied when he saw that horrified look on Kyle's face. It was something he strived for daily, and it never got old. It was like a drug and he couldn't help but get his daily fill.

"You skippin?" Came the small voice of Kenny McCormick, hanging out behind the dumpsters, a fesh cigarette in his mouth. That kid was in so many bad habits, Cartman wasn't sure how he afforded them all. He wouldn't be surprised if he whored out his body for money. He would enjoy it, after all. He was a chronic ditcher as well, seeing no point in furthering his education when he was going to stay poor forever. He knew how the system worked, he wasn't about to lie to himself and get his hopes up for no reason.

"Cha. Bitch wouldn't shut up about me being racist or something." This earned a laugh from Kenny, which caused Cartman to punch him in the arm. "What are you doing out here, poor kid? Or better yet, how can you afford Marlboro?" Expensive bastard.

Kenny shrugged, taking another drag as a smile grew on his face. "Five finger discount. Plus I got a twenty from Susy last week." Yep, definitely a manwhore. Oh well, whatever worked for him. "Heard you went to the movies with Kyle last night." He said after a moment, watching Cartman out of the corner of his eye.

Cartman eyed him suspiciously, taking his time to roll his eyes at him. "Yeah, because some people were out fucking whores or playing in some gay ass football game." He had tried his two favorite options and was left with the greatest evil of them all. He didn't need it thrown back in his face. "What's it to ya?"

Kenny laughed, dropping his cigarette as he smashed it beneath his foot, making sure the embers were all but gone. "Just curious. Isn't often you see the White Supremecist and the town Jew hooking up after school."

Cartman swore, flipping him off again. "Aye! We weren't 'hooking up' we were seeing a movie. Just because you like sausage doesn't mean we all do." It was rumored that Kenny didn't care what he slept with, as long as the sex was good.

"Awful defensive, dude." Kenny said as he dodged a quick punch from Cartman before sauntering off, laughing over his shoulder, waving. Cartman shook his head, resting it against the tree for a moment. That kid had become irritating over the past few years. He wasn't as meak or afraid as he use to be and that meant it was harder to put him in his place. He hadn't even seen Kenny at the movies.

"Screw you guys, I'm going home." He said to no one in particular, headed towards his truck.


	4. Chapter 4

Cartman pulled in his driveway a little past noon, which made him frown a bit. His mom would be upset with him, sure, but she wouldn't cause too big of a fuss about it. She knew better then to bother him after a shitty day at school, just like he knew better then to bother her after a shitty day at...wherever the hell she had been. It was an unspoken agreement between them, which made them appear to be friends versus family, but it worked for him. They wouldn't make a very good family anyways.

Cracking the door open, he was greeted by the same scent that he had noticed when he fell asleep. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged his backpack off onto the floor, locking the door behind him. Maybe he would be allowed some home alone time, though it was doubtful. "Poopie-kins, are you home early?" Of course. "Was school let out early?" From the sound she was upstairs, which gave him free roam of the kitchen as he grabbed a few Cokes and a few bags of chips.

"Aye, where's the dip?" He muttered before finding it crammed behind the milk, which was just a few weeks past experation. Good thing he didn't drink the stuff. "Yeah, good behavior!" He yelled back with a tone that made everything more then obvious. He had used that excuse before and his mother knew to drop it, which was exactly what she did now. Everyone knew their place in this house, even if they didn't out in the real world. He liked it that way.

"Hey kid, you know how to work the microwave?" Cartman nearly had a heartattack as he whipped around, dropping the bags of chips as he swore aloud. The same man that had stumbled into his room last night, was hunched over their microwave, a quizzical look on his face as he hit the buttons harder then he was suppose to. It was obvious he was having some trouble. It was also obvious, that he hadn't left last night. His mom never, ever had clients over for this long. Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Figure it out your own god damn self." He said darkly, picking up the bags of chips as he backed away out of the kitchen, eyes never leaving the man before he went up the stairs to his room. He could hear him mutter something, but didn't bother to catch exactly what it was. Wandering closer to his mom's room, he couldn't help but clear his throat. "Mom." He said in that sickeningly sweet voice he used to get whatever it was he wanted. "Why is there a man hovering over our microwave?"

He could hear her turn off the television, or maybe put it on mute, a short pause following. "Oh honey, that's Greg. He's going to be staying here awhile. Play nice." She added, as if they were all having one big slumber party. Some days he wondered if she was dropped on her head as a child.

"Now you know my name, what's yours, kid?" Nearly dropping the bag of chips again, he glared up at the man that stood in the hallway between him and his room. He had messy brown hair and reaked of cheap calogne. And the more Cartman thought about it, the more he realized that's exactly what he had been smelling the entire time. He was beginning to hate that smell. "I'd like to be friends, you know."

Cartman spat, lifting an eyebrow at him like he had just grown a second head. How dumb was this guy, thinking he was going to have something meaningful with his mom, of all people? He'd pay, get his fill, and leave like all the rest. Maybe he was just paying better then the rest right now. "Cartman."

"Well that's great and all, kid, but what's your first name?" Why did he keep calling him kid? It was getting annoying, like he was just trying to piss him off. There was no way he was that dumb, was there? Well, maybe.

"Cartman." He repeated, louder this time. "You don't call meh by my first name, you don't go in meh room, and you don't touch meh god damn chips!" He stormed past him, bumping him in the shoulder purposefuly before slamming his door shut behind him, making sure it was locked this time. He hated his house more then anything in the world. Maybe school would of actually been a better alternative today.

His cellphone suddenly chirpped to life, throwing himself on his bed before flipping it open.

_To Cartman : Hey fatass, you skipping? _

Leave it to Stan to check up on everyone, like he was everyone's big brother.

_To Stan : I'm not gonna deal with her bullshit. Stupid cunt. _

Some days, he liked that teacher because he could bend her to his will like butter. Other days, she forgot she was a woman and tried to do things for herself and try to undermind him.

_To Cartman : Kyle skipped too. You guys suck. Later._

Cartman stopped a moment, rereading the message to make sure he hadn't read it wrong. Kyle was skipping class? The little Jew that wouldn't settle for anything less then an A+ on any kind of assignment he did? What. The. Hell. Was today, fuck everything up and make sure it goes to hell, day? Because that's what it was looking like so far.

Growling, he threw his Coke against the wall, watching it explode and drip soda down the faded paint. Grabbing his keys he was out his door and into his truck again, flying out of his driveway like a bat out of hell. Knowing Kyle, he would be at Starks Pond, trying to skip rocks to no avail. He was so damn predictable sometimes. He saw his phone flash and flipped it open again.

To Cartman : Poopie-kins, where'd you go?

He decided to ignore it. Teaching his mom to text was one of the worst moral decisions in his life and it haunted him on a daily basis. She didn't care, he didn't care, and he would show up back home when he felt like it. Maybe when he got back, that asshole would finally be gone. Maybe he would actually be able to talk to Kyle tonight about something other then his horrible choice in religions. Nah, he'd bring that up too.

As soon as he found the little Kike.


End file.
